Enjoy the silence
by saltzatore
Summary: Repost, because fanfictionnet ate the story. - There's a hunt. There's a witch. There are complications. - Slash, Damon/Alaric


Written for pleasebekidding.

Lots of hugs and thanks to my beta, Ellensmithee.

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><p>There are times in his life when Alaric curses himself— repeatedly<em>—<em>for being an idiot.

This night is no exception.

They are running—somehow they are always running these days. There's something fundamentally _wrong_ about that when you're supposed to be fighting the bad guys and spend most of your time _running_from them—running at top speed. Or, in his case, jogging real fast. He has no night-sight, he can hardly see a thing in the darkness and that means tripping, stumbling, loss of balance—and falling. Lots of falling. So much falling that, at one point, he doesn't even try to get up anymore. He tries to catch his breath, tries to calm down the short, painful bursts for air, tries to see something despite the stars dancing in front of his eyes—

His arm is grabbed, pulled up. He wants to yell, to demand to be let go, to be allowed to catch his fucking breath for a moment—but he can't, he can't get a word out. He pulls his arm out of the grip and flops back to the ground, closing his eyes. He receives a not-so-gentle nudge against his ribs and coughs, rolling onto his side. When he opens his eyes again, Damon is glaring down at him, eyes sparkling vividly, even in the dark. The vampire gestures at something behind them, giving him another almost-kick to the side when Alaric waves him off and shakes his head.

The witch won't follow them, she doesn't have to.

Whatever spell she had cast is either already working its magic or didn't hit them at all. You can't outrun magic, that's one of the things Mystic Fall has taught him. Keeping up that brutal pace won't do them any good. Not to mention that there simply is no way he'll be able to keep walking, _running_is completely impossible.

They are in trouble. Big trouble.

It was supposed to be a nest of _vampires_, an easy job, get in, put their stakes to good use, get out. But instead of fangs flashing their way, there was a witch. And that witch was prepared to fight them off, had her house set up with magical traps that went off as soon as they entered the property.

The first thing that hit them had been a silencing spell. Neither he nor Damon are able to speak at the moment. He has no idea how it works— or why a witch would chose to cast a spell like that on intruders— but ever since they left the place there has been silence between them. They are still able to make sounds— Damon growling every two seconds at something that's annoying him is proof of that, but actual _speech_seems to be out of the question. It's a weird feeling, his throat is tingling unpleasantly and there's the almost constant reflex to cough that's getting annoying. Even more so when you're trying to catch your breath. They need to have Bonnie look into it once they get back to the car-

He is startled out of his thoughts when Damon nudges his shin, cocking his head to the side in a silent question.

_You okay?_

He opens his mouth reflexively to give some kind of grumpy feedback- and then remembers that he can't speak. He settles for rolling his eyes, pulling his face into a frown and nods. Damon looks down at him thoughtfully, the need to say something clearly in his eyes. For a moment, Alaric is amused about the situation. Damon hates being quiet, he hates silence. When they are together, he's always talking, always giving some running commentary about the situation or whatever else is on his mind. This, right now, must be hell for him- and even though he has no idea how or if it's going to be temporary or not, Alaric can't fight back an amused grin, feels his lips widen into a teasing smirk when Damon frowns at him. There's something Damon hates even more than silence, and that's Alaric being smug.

It's funny. Alaric chuckles softly and starts to get to his feet, all the while being very aware of the attentive eyes watching his every move. Once he is on his feet, he turns around to scan the forest, tries to figure out the direction they have to go in to get back to the car and curses when, no matter where he turns, everything looks the same. They should have-

He never sees Damon move, one moment he's scanning the silent forest, the next he's thrown against the nearest tree, Damon's hands at his collar while Damon crashes their lips together, claiming Alaric's mouth in a fierce kiss that steals his breath. Alaric is too surprised to act for a second, too stunned to think- but then he's pushing back against Damon, trying to dislodge him, to get away from him.

The problem is, Damon won't let him, he's using his strength to keep him where he wants him, deepening the kiss insistently until Alaric finally gives in, pretends to play along and kiss him back. He doesn't exactly mind the kissing, but this doesn't seem like the time - or place - to make out. Damon, of course, has other plans, once he is sure that Alaric is completely breathless and stunned enough to not push him off, he pulls back slowly and looks at him-

Something is wrong, there's a weird look in the vampire's eyes that Alaric hasn't seen before, something... wild... something- primal? Alaric frowns, panting softly, tries to catch Damon's gaze, but the vampire is staring at Alaric's lips, then lower, and before Alaric can do anything, Damon is at his throat- kissing it, nuzzling the skin there, running his tongue over Alaric's pulse point lovingly. This time he manages to push Damon off him and glares at him, shaking his head and fixing Damon with a stern gaze. When Damon's eyes dance back to his neck again, Alaric crosses his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head again. Wishing he could underline it with words.

_Forget it._

Damon's gaze wanders back to meet his- and the weird expression in his eyes is still there, but it seems muted somehow. Damon blinks as if to clear his head, then shakes his head, frowning. Alaric cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows questioningly, but Damon's gaze is unfocused for a moment- until he suddenly groans and rolls his eyes, taking a deep breath. He almost looks as if he's sulking.

Alaric doesn't get it. Something is bothering Damon and, from the looks of it, he's just found out what it is and it pisses him off. Damon stares at him, as if he is trying to tell him something, but Alaric has never been good at mindreading. Suddenly Damon's face lightens up and he pulls out his phone. He flips it open and the bright light illuminates his face, he almost looks as if he is getting ready to tell a horror story on a camping trip. Damon types something into the phone, then holds out the screen for Alaric to read.

*take ur clothes off*

_What the fuck?_

Damon must have lost his mind, Alaric decides then and stares at him, hard, shaking his head resolutely. Damon rolls his eyes, huffs, then types something again, jaw clenched in frustration.

*tht bitch mikked us w/ spn Viagra*

Alaric has no idea what that's supposed to mean. He shakes his head, again- and Damon looks at him as if he's lost his mind. Alaric gets the feeling that if Damon could still speak, now would be the time he'd start to insult him. Damon glares, turns the phone to him and starts typing determinedly. It's slightly longer than before, and when he's done, he thrusts the phone at Alaric and starts unbuttoning his pants. Alaric watches him, too dumbfounded to do anything, but another glare finally sends his gaze back to the phone.

*its a curse fuck or die lust spell witch wants us 2 get our freak on*

Alaric reads it- reads it again- and his eyes grow wide. He's heard of that before, remembers reading somewhere, that witches can manipulate their victim's bodies however they want, making them do whatever they want, pretty much like a vampire's compulsion—

And then he gets it.

No. Oh NO. Alaric shakes his head, looks up from the phone, stares at Damon, putting all the protest he can muster into his eyes.

_Not going to happen._

He feels fine, he's not under any spell, there's nothing wrong with him, no need to fuck Damon senseless. He won't let some witch make him have sex against his will. No way.

Damon has stopped opening his jeans and is looking at him now, one eyebrow raised. He is staring so hard at Alaric that he is sure he is trying to tell him something- something more than 'let's do it'- and Alaric feels like an idiot suddenly. Right, so _he_ is feeling fine, but apparently Damon was hit by that curse and is definitely _not_okay.

And in need of help.

Which- has to be... sex.

In the middle of some forest.

In the middle of the night.

Because of some horny little bitch who had nothing better to do than to put a fucking lust spell on them.

Alaric has no words for this.

For a long moment all he can do is gape, speechless, at Damon, who, despite whatever discomfort he might be in due to the curse, stares back at him, waiting patiently. In fact, a lot more patient now, under that curse, than any other time Alaric has seen him. Waiting, Alaric realizes, for _him_to decide what to do.

This is SO fucked up.

He rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back with a long groan, staring at the sky for a moment. The stars are beautiful tonight...

There are soft lips at his throat, again, teeth grazing over his skin, a surprisingly warm tongue trailing over his Adam's apple. He realizes that baring his throat in a situation like that might have been a mistake, but the lips are so very talented and the mouth is hitting just the right spots... One of Damon's hands sneaks behind his neck and starts caressing the skin there, sending a delicious shudder through Alaric's body.

He gives in. Alaric lets his body sag against Damon, lifting his head to look down at the vampire with a resigned sigh.

_Only you_, he thinks idly, _only you can get me into situations like this..._

Damon reads his gaze right and pulls him closer for another kiss, but it ends too soon and Damon's hands are at Alaric's belt.

Now would be the time Damon would make a joke, say something about how he wants him- and Alaric kind of misses that suddenly. It's nonsense, most of the time, some meaningless phrases about how hot he is or how much Damon is going to make him scream- but now that he is silent... he wants to hear it. Something must have shown on his face, because Damon looks at him and grins, one of his teasing smiles that usually gets him anywhere.

Or anyone.

He grins back—and that's how quickly he loses control over the situation. Before he can so much as blink he is suddenly turned around and pressed against the tree behind him. Nimble fingers start working at his belt, at his fly—and then , all there is, is gasping, touching, _biting_—until Damon relaxes against his back, running his tongue over the sore spot right between Alaric's shoulder blades.

"That was—" Alaric breaks off when he realizes he's actually said that out loud. He turns around to look at Damon who is watching him with a smug grin on his lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

"Guess the curse wore off then," Damon says, sounding incredibly pleased with himself.

Alaric shakes his head slowly and pulls his jeans up, thinking that a shower, right now, would be heaven, then straightens and rolls his shoulders, hissing when the movement pulls sharply at the bite marks. Damon watches him, but when he doesn't complain—not that he would— he smirks at him and picks up the cell from where it has fallen to the ground. Alaric looks at the small display.

"How did you know what kind of spell that was?"

Damon's gaze snaps up, a little too quickly, and he grins, shrugging slightly. "Lucky guess..."

Alaric frowns, studying him—and groans.

"There was no lust-spell."

Damon looks at him, appalled— and then his lips break into a wide grin. "If there had been, that surely would have taken care of it."

"What about the spell she cast on you, I saw you get hit by... something."

Damon shrugs, putting the cell back into his pocket. "I have no idea what it was, but it was wearing off and I was in the mood and the place just called for it..."

Alaric suddenly finds himself thinking about going back to the car for the vervain darts and stakes—

"Admit it, you loved it."

_Two_ darts, at least, a stake to the chest, maybe, somewhere where it will _hurt_—

"And if I ever get hit by a lust spell again, I know where to find you..."

He lunges at Damon, but, of course the vampire is faster, disappears into the forest, laughing. Alaric growls into the darkness, then sets out to follow him, more slowly, now seeing even less than before.

There are times in his life Alaric curses himself—repeatedly— for being an idiot, but, this once, he couldn't care less.


End file.
